Warriors: Reign of Shadow
by startwinkle450
Summary: Possible spoilers for the First Arc. Takes place at the end of Forest of Secrets. When an invasion made by rogues overwhelms ThunderClan, Bluestar is killed in a highly suspect manner, and Tigerclaw is appointed leader of the Clan. Fireheart suddenly finds himself facing new challenges, and has to work hard to prove Tigerclaw guilty of the crime.
1. Prologue

**This is my first fanfiction on the site, so I would appreciate feedback highly on errors or inconsistencies with the books. In advance, thanks for taking the time to read it!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Everything was happening so fast.

Fireheart recoiled as the rogue struck a heavy blow at his face, claws connecting to rake bloody trails across his stinging cheek. With a howl of pain, the flame-coloured warrior launched forward, paws outstretched to catch the heavyset cat in the chest and push him backward. The lunge managed to stagger the other tom and send him onto his back, but, with a screech of outrage, the rogue swept his claws down in a bloody arc to deal a second blow to Fireheart's face, this time raking down over his brow and sending hot crimson liquid pooling into his eyes.

The orange tom spat and jumped backward, scrabbling frantically to clear his eyes, but the other cat was already back on his feet, and sneering as he closed the gap between them. Powerful muscles bunched in his haunches as he leaped… but he didn't manage to reach Fireheart in time before a brown shape crashed into the rogue's side, bowling him over and knocking him away. Fireheart shook his head and gaped at his rescuer; Dustpelt was standing, sides heaving, a tail-length away. With a nod, the brown tom leaped for the rogue – their mutual bitterness toward one another seemed to have been buried temporarily in response to the new threat.

Then, a choked caterwaul rang in the camp, and Fireheart whirled round to see Thornpaw, golden fur matted with blood, locked in a deadly tussle with Brokentail, whose blinded eyes gave him no impediment as he latched onto the apprentice with razor-sharp fangs. Fireheart barely had a moment to register their fight before he saw the former leader wrap his forelegs around Thornpaw's shoulders – as though in an embrace – then haul himself upwards to sink his teeth into the younger cat's throat.

"No!" Fireheart cried, rushing forwards to the apprentice's aid, but it was too late. Brokentail ripped the flesh free of his neck with an effortless turn of the head, then released the apprentice and made a hasty attempt to crawl away. Thornpaw stumbled, disorientated and bleeding heavily, then his eyes began to glaze over as his life trickled away, down over his chest. Fireheart just caught him as he crumpled to the ground, and held him as his shuddery breaths gave way into silence.

A pained cry rang out from somewhere else in the camp – Fireheart was too stunned to pinpoint where, though he lifted his head and swivelled it to look around. Frostfur, Thornpaw's mother, flanked on both sides by Brindleface and Speckletail, stared at the scene with mixed horror and rage in her eyes, and after a few moments of stunned stillness, leaped past the rogue her fellow queens were batting at and pelted the length of the camp to where Brokentail was scrabbling at the ground, trying to get away. She cleared the distance easily, fuelled by a mother's love and a mother's loss, and pounced atop the weakened tom's back to sink her teeth into his scruff, raking at his back and sides.

She was not trying to kill him, Fireheart realised; Frostfur was giving him all the pain she could deal, trapping him as she did. Blood chilled by her anguished screams, he closed Thornpaw's sightless eyes and took his body aside, where it would not be disturbed during the battle. With a last nod of respect, he turned to scan the camp to where his help would be most appreciated. He was alarmed to not spot Bluestar, or Tigerclaw. Glancing at her den, he saw the silhouettes of two cats – and panicked. With a cry, he began to charge to his leader's aid, afraid of who was in there…

A shape barrelled into him, throwing him off-course and sending him sprawling. Before he could regain footing, he felt the stab of sharp claws pin him down by his shoulders, and a weight on top of him, holding him to the ground. With a snarl, he twisted in an attempt to dislodge his attacker, but they remained atop him, sneering.

"Poor little kittypet," a she-cat's voice wheedled in his ear. "Just another word for 'weakling'!"

Fireheart snarled and writhed again, but she dug in her claws deeper, causing him to cry out in pain.

"What's that, kittypet? Am I hurting you?" The she-cat cackled, almost manically, and he caught a glimpse of her russet-coloured fur as she leaned down to whisper next to his face. "Such a pity. A pity that your Clan's being hurt worse – and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Fireheart snarled, and a sudden rush of anger gave him the strength to surge upwards and send the rogue flying past him, somersaulting over his shoulders to land in a heap in the dust before him. She shook herself momentarily before Fireheart leaped for her, though he took a misstep, and didn't reach her before she leaped into the air and landed once more back onto his shoulders. This time, it wasn't her claws he felt; it was her teeth, burying themselves into his spine at the base of his neck. With a howl of helplessness, Fireheart squirmed futilely, but would not be freed.

Then, the pain abated, and the weight was banished again. The flame-coloured tom heard a thump as the she-cat landed a fox-length away, and his form fell into shadow as a hulking shape stood over him. Looking up, neck stinging, Fireheart felt a wash of relief as he noted the gleaming white fur of the senior warrior Whitestorm, fresh for the fight and flanked by other members of the patrol.

In the distance, Fireheart heard a screeched battle-cry as Sandstorm and her patrol surged into the camp, murderous fury glinting in their eyes. Cloudpaw trailed close behind, sides heaving and legs churning as the small cat struggled to keep up with the warriors.

"Are you alright?" Whitestorm's voice was full of concern.

"Y-yes, I think so," Fireheart mewed shakily, and got to his feet as Whitestorm stepped away. The russet she-cat was being chased off now, Darkstripe and a grey she-cat who looked eerily like Bluestar charging after her to the edge of the camp.

At Fireheart's puzzled look, Whitestorm purred gently, and explained. "Mistyfoot was with Leopardfur in the forest, along with a patrol of RiverClan cats. They offered to help us once they learned we were in trouble."

Fireheart blinked slowly, then heaved himself to his paws and looked around. All throughout the camp, the rogues were being chased off. Speckletail managed a last jab at a towering tom as he pelted into the shadows, and Cinderpelt and Yellowfang, stood side-by-side, hissed as another rogue made off into the forest, spitting. Filled with a warm sense of pride, Fireheart found Greystripe and caught his gaze. The smoke-furred tom was battered, but stood beside his equally-beaten-up apprentice, Brackenpaw, with warmth and relief in his eyes.

This relief, however, was not to last long. Fireheart's calm soon phased to confusion as Greystripe's eyes widened in horror, and Brackenpaw let out a high-pitched wail. Whitestorm whirled round and cried out, and all around the camp, a startled murmur began to arise as Tigerclaw emerged from the leader's den, carrying a limp grey shape in his jaws. He dropped it beneath the Highrock, face stricken, then released a long, pained yowl.

"Cats of ThunderClan!" he cried, claws churning the earth beneath. "Bluestar is dead!"

* * *

 **So, there's the prologue. What do you guys think? Should I continue it? Are there any errors I need to watch out for? Do you have any suggestions or improvements? Let me know with a review; they're very much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

The numbness that crept up through Fireheart's legs was almost too much to bear as he laid eyes on the shape that Tigerclaw had brought forward. He now knew what the creature was, the limp, unmoving form splayed out of the ground. Blood still pooling beneath a ragged wound to her throat, Bluestar, revered leader of ThunderClan, Fireheart's mentor, laid dead, all her lives taken from her by seemingly one cruel bite. The orange tom hung his head, stunned, as the others began to crowd around, equally disturbed.

"Tigerclaw!" Whitestorm's snarl sounded in the still air. "What is the meaning of this? How did this come to be?"

The deputy was silent for a few moments before replying. "I entered the den to find her bleeding out in front of me. There was blood all over the den; it must have been one of the rogues, but I didn't see anyone enter or leave." Tigerclaw's usually gruff voice was now cracked and wavering from emotion, and Fireheart found his speech to be almost convincing.

"I felt so helpless," Tigerclaw went on, shaking somewhat. "I should have gone to fetch Yellowfang, I know, but I couldn't move. I was just stood there like a stump. I was… I was so weak."

Nobody moved for a long while. The RiverClan cats had regrouped and were standing a distance away, all silent in respect of the scene that had just unfolded. Fireheart caught a glimpse at Leopardfur, who looked equal parts mournful and irritated, as though the whole spectacle was causing her an inconvenience. The flame-coloured warrior watched as she hissed something to Mistyfoot, who blinked and said nothing in response. Fireheart was thankful for the latter she-cat's silence, and was suddenly struck with pain when he remembered that Bluestar was Mistyfoot's mother. He fought back the urge to rush to her and tell her, and was relieved from being torn apart by his thoughts when they were interrupted by a soft mewing from Yellowfang, who was supporting a dishevelled Frostfur on their way to join the other cats.

"Shock isn't weakness, Tigerclaw," Yellowfang rasped, her tone unusually soft. Fireheart supposed it was because of the gravity of the situation. "If she was bleeding out as you say, then there was nothing you or I could have done for her. Needless to say, it was a terrible crime, one that ThunderClan will mourn for many moons to come."

A yowl of agreement was raised into the air, and Tigerclaw blinked in gratitude at the grizzled medicine cat. "Thank you, Yellowfang. My guilt has been lifted by your kind words."

"So what happens now?" Sandstorm was staring, solemn-eyed at Bluestar's body. "How do we recover from this?"

Fireheart watched as Tigerclaw's façade slipped away for a moment as a flash of annoyance passed into his blazing amber eyes. "Naturally I will become leader, as is the demand of my position as deputy." He paused. "I will leave tonight, I think. I would feel more at ease if the Clan had a strong leader as soon as possible."

"Let me go with you, Tigerstar," Darkstripe meowed, deep voice void of any grief for Bluestar, and instead full of adoration. "I'll keep you safe from any rogues who might be hanging around."

Tigerclaw seemed amused by his supporter's offer; his whiskers twitched briefly, and a new gleam came into his eye. "I can take care of myself, Darkstripe, but I appreciate your companionship. I always reward my friends." His gaze passed over the Clan, then rested on Fireheart, who shuddered involuntarily. "Longtail and Dustpelt; you are to come as well, as will Yellowfang. We leave as soon as the herbs are prepared. Whitestorm will take charge of the Clan whilst I am absent." And with that, he got to his paws, abandoning Bluestar's body where it lay and leaving a silenced Clan in his wake.

"Tigerclaw," Leopardfur piped up, stepping forward briskly, "before you leave, we have matters to discuss."

Tigerclaw regarded her with a brief, disregarding look. "Oh?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Well, if you haven't already noticed, _Bluestar is dead_. Bother my Clan with your petty arguments another time."

Leopardfur sniffed with contempt at the dismissal. "Very well, Tigerclaw. I shall return in a quarter-moon's time to discuss the matter with you again." And without another word, she turned with her Clan to leave.

Fireheart leapt forwards, seizing the opportunity. "Leopardfur! Wait!"

The RiverClan deputy stopped, sighed, and then regarded the younger warrior coolly. "What is it, Fireheart? Shouldn't you busy fixing up the Clan?"

Fireheart shook his head, breathless. "I need to talk to Mistyfoot. I'll be brief, I swear by StarClan."

The she-cat in question pricked her ears in curiosity, but said nothing.

Leopardfur's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Fireheart was aware of the tail-flick she tried in vain to prevent, and the younger warrior grimaced, expecting a scathing refusal or some harsh jab. It didn't come.

"I'll hold you to that oath, young warrior," the deputy warned him, though her eyes were bright mostly with curiosity, and not hostility. She stepped aside to allow the grey queen to step forward, and Fireheart supressed a sigh of relief. The rest of the patrol padded a distance away, though most of them were watching the two warriors converse.

Mistyfoot sat down primly and began to lick her paws. "I hope you aren't asking me to convince Leopardfur _not_ to ask for the kits again. They belong in their mother's Clan."

Fireheart shook his head again. "This has nothing to do with that. It's something else?"

"Is it?" Mistyfoot regarded him for a moment, then lowered her paw. "What's it about then?"

Fireheart braced himself. "It's about your mother."

"My mother?" Mistyfoot echoed. "What does Greypool have to do with any of this?"

Exasperated, Fireheart fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Greypool has _nothing_ to do with this."

The she-cat's fur bristled with impatience. "Just what in StarClan's name are you talking about, Fireheart?"

There was a pause as Fireheart hesitated, then he tensed, lips contorted into a grimace. "Greypool isn't your mother, Mistyfoot."

"Are you mouse-brained?" Mistyfoot snapped, tail swishing. "Of course she is!"

"But she's not!" Fireheart gestured back to where the elders were carrying Bluestar away. "Bluestar was your mother! Oakheart was your father; they had a secret relationship and your mother had to give you up when you were just kits, for the sake of ThunderClan. Oakheart took you to RiverClan, to be with him, because he knew that Greypool had just lost kits and would have enough milk to feed you. You were raised in RiverClan by Greypool, but she was not your mother, nor Stonefur's. That honour belonged to Bluestar."

The older cat glared at him, eyes blazing. "I don't know what's addled your brain, Fireheart, but you're talking nonsense. Greypool is my mother – I'm a RiverClan cat, through and through! No cat can question that."

"Just…" Fireheart sighed, ears pinned back against his skull. "Just talk to Greypool, okay? Ask her for the truth. She's the only one who can vouch for it."

Mistyfoot sniffed with haughtiness, but a flicker of doubt appeared for a fleeting moment in her eyes. "Fine. I'll talk to Greypool," she growled, "but only because I owe you a debt – for my kits. And I'll only prove you wrong anyway." And with a last huff of pride, she got to her paws and padded away. Fireheart noted the bright stares of Leopardfur and the RiverClan patrol a few fox-lengths away; something about the RiverClan deputy's gaze unsettled the flame-coloured warrior, and something deep inside of him told him he should have waited for a better time. Something about this didn't feel right.

But the bustling of the Clan behind him roused his attention as the patrol vanished into the woods, and Fireheart decided it was time to join the mourners, to honour the memory of the fallen. In the distance, Whitestorm and Mousefur were heading over to where Brokentail lay, unmoving and eerily silent, and Swiftpaw, Brightpaw and the elders began to move Thornpaw's body away to be buried. Fireheart allowed himself a small sigh of relief at the brief time of peace, then faltered, remembering with a twinge of worry that the real challenge was sure to begin soon enough.

Tigerclaw would certainly see to that.


End file.
